Never Again
by LuvEwan
Summary: During the trials of a mission, Obi-Wan is forced to examine one of his particular failings. A completed vignette.


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Never Again

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A vignette by LuvEwan

..pg..

..disclaimer… I own nothing.

**Thanks to be given again, to obi_ew and red_rose_knight, who began the Obi-Wan Challenge Thread. This is a response to the second challenge, and would never have been written without such inspiration. **

() * ()

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'Pathetic life forms.'

That's what he had called them.

Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes, as if the movement could somehow alleviate the dry itch, the heaviness of the shadowed lids. But his gaze remained hooded and defiled by thin scarlet veins.

The clan members were encompassing a raging fire, their humbly clothed bodies huddled around the flame. They leaned against each other in mutual support, their heads titled in weariness.

Obi-Wan could detect, without the tiniest aid of Force-enhanced senses, that they were all asleep.

Usually, such collective repose would project an air of serene calm.

But the atmosphere was riddled with haunting emotion: hope, desperation… fear. Layer upon layer of bone-deep apprehension, radiating in murky, dark waves from each tired soul.

__

'Pathetic..'

Pathetic?

He allowed himself only a second's glance at his companion before turning his focus to the purely black sky.

A rich voice permeated his hazy thoughts, fresh and piercing in his memory.

__

'They do not understand us, Padawan. Their way of life couldn't be more different from ours. And can you honestly say you understand them_?'_

Obi-Wan sighed, crossing his arms across his chest as a strong breeze blew through their makeshift camp, crackling the blaze, vibrant reds and oranges whipping against an ebony backdrop.

Despite his struggle to stay centered, he couldn't stop himself from straying to Qui-Gon's face. The craggy visage was bathed in a sickly saffron light, the moon's glow pooling in lines and leaving his pallor pale.

He was stretched on the forest floor, clad in mere tunics, his cloak given to a young woman among the threadbare group. Obi-Wan could detect the poorly suppressed shivers wracking the powerful body. 

He sealed his eyes shut.

__

Gods…It could've been so much worse. 

() * ()

__

One Day Earlier

Obi-Wan could barely contain his vexation, every feeling within him revolting against the decision.

Qui-Gon stood some feet away, speaking with the 'leader' of the informal group.

__

How can he do this? The apprentice wondered incredulously. 

The planet was tiny, an overlooked pinpoint on galactic maps. When Master and Padawan were assigned to aid with post-war negotiation and provide much-needed mediation, they were required to do extensive research into most aspects of J'Hlen. 

A very pivotal detail of the long-wintered world was a small division in the populace. When the first settlers arrived, to escape whatever grievances they found in their former homes, they agreed to abandon the technology of neighboring systems and relish in a natural existence.

For a while, it was well-accepted, and the stoic philosophy was adopted throughout the relatively new land. Transport was limited to the sturdy backs of large animals, clothing and style a distant concern, ailments cured through herbal medicines. 

But the peace blanketed like the rampant snow throughout J'Hlen was ruptured by a steady flow of outsiders. Some eagerly participated in the basic, clean rigors, but others were dissatisfied with the lack of many niceties. 

Slowly, J'Hlen became victim of an unwilling evolution, and while they began as intruders, the faction developed into the majority, leaving loyal followers of the original practices labeled extremists. Tension grew in passing years, until finally the welling bitterness and resentment culminated into a revolt--then war.

In the end, those dedicated to J'Hlen's original ways were again made to bend to technological advances or risk being wiped out entirely by their opposition.

Except for a collection of die-hard patriots, who made their voices heard through a series of explosions scattered throughout the capital.

The last, and most violent, of their demonstrations erupted during a conference at a humble two-chambered building where talks were taking place. Qui-Gon, sensing the disaster a split second in advance, shielded Obi-Wan with his body, taking the brunt of sharp debris while holding his apprentice tight against his chest. A cloud of dust descended upon the room, and they could only feel for survivors of the committee once the shaking ceased.

Obi-Wan rose to his feet after probing for a non-existent pulse, exchanging a grave look with his mentor, a snake of warm burgundy sliding down his cheek. "Have you found anyone alive?!" He yelled.

Qui-Gon walked out of the billowing dirt with two men slung over his shoulders. "They're the only ones! We have to get out!"

It was difficult to be freed from the building, and when they finally emerged from the wreckage, the man draped over the Master's left side had succumbed to his injuries. Smudged face solemn, Qui-Gon placed the lifeless body on the pavement.

The surrounding area was smoldering, people rushing in a panic, or cradling a loved one in their arms, waiting.

Waiting for help.

And Obi-Wan knew they would need to move. To hasten survivors away from the dangerous, thick smoke, to dispatch forces.

A bedraggled officer jogged up to them, recognizing their station. "You Jedi?"

Qui-Gon answered that they were.

"My men are handling it. But there're some people trapped over there," He pointed to a flaming cabin in the distance.

The Master gave a nod of dismal comprehension, and the pair sprinted toward the ruined home.

As they ran through the rapidly melting snow, Obi-Wan caught a glance of Qui-Gon. "Are you alright?!" He worried over the shattering din.

"I have to be!" Came the response, his bruised and bloodied. 

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and struggled to remain in the moment as they approached the wreckage. 

The cabin was a ramshackle house of aged wood, its normal, pale brown color melting to a charred black as the fire spread.

In unison, the Jedi secured breathers over their mouths and noses.

Qui-Gon sealed his eyes, and sensed the frenzied life force of over fifteen beings, crammed into the middle of their dilapidated prison.

__

//I'm going to knock down the door. They're all away from it. They were only hit by fringes of the blast…they're uninjured. We can herd them out.//

Obi-Wan gave a tight-lipped nod. _//Yes, Master--be careful.//_

The older Jedi spared a brief second to smile grimly at his protégé. //_Spouting warnings…isn't that my job?//_ Then he threw out his hand, and the deteriorating door flew from its hinges, to land somewhere in the growing conflagration.

The Jedi shielded their eyes from the clouds of smoke.

A child shrieked and several of the other victims gasped in surprised rapture.

Qui-Gon ran to them, a group of people with ashen faces and wide eyes. "Go!" He motioned to the crude, but wide, opening.

They struggled to their feet and Obi-Wan quickly guided them through the thickening darkness, his arm wrapped around the slumped shoulders of an elderly woman who could barely shuffle. He threw his gaze back anxiously, finding Qui-Gon emulating his own actions.

He heaved a grateful sigh.

Once they were safely away from the scorched cabin, at the opening of a forest, Qui-Gon wiped the sheen of sweat from his bruised forehead. "Is everyone alright?" He asked breathlessly.

The aged woman, stout and thick-bodied, with stiff, short legs, stepped forward. Her gray hair was a tangled bun atop her head, and errant strands hung in her round face. Her skin was deeply creased and dingy, but her eyes were crisp, cobalt clarity. "We're all fine, sir."

Her voice was gravel, and Obi-Wan produced the canteen strapped to his waist.

She took a shallow drink, then with wet lips said, "And we thank you for risking yourselves to help us."

Qui-Gon's smile was keen and genuine. "We're Jedi, and it's our duty. But we appreciate your gratitude."

The woman's pallor turned white. "Jedi?" She croaked. There was a stirring behind her, her companions whispering, focused steadfast on Qui-Gon and his apprentice. "You men are Jedi?"

"Yes, we are." Qui-Gon affirmed, accustomed to the occasional reverence and disbelief that came with revealing their title.

The elder clasped her hands together. "Our blessings have been so few…so few I thought the gods had surely cursed us for some unknown sin…but this…" She lifted watery eyes to the Master. "You can help us."

The group, including six old men and four withering women, two middle-aged couples, a teenaged boy and a tiny baby, was silent as she spoke.

She grasped Qui-Gon's hand with leathery, liver-spotted fingers. "We are of the loyal J'Hlen. We are all the time defending the true soul of this planet. All the time, Jedi sir."

Obi-Wan looked with astounded confusion at his mentor. //_The loyal J'Hlen…//_

Comprehension flashed in Qui-Gon's eyes. _//The extremists.//_ He affirmed.

The Master stood straighter, a noble figure despite the blood drying in his wounds and the mussed condition of his long, graying hair. "Did your loyalty to J'Hlen cause you to plant the explosives?"

Shock registered on the blanched face. "No…Good Jedi, no. We did nothing."

He regarded her with an unconvinced, cynical expression. 

"We are the losers of this war, yes, but did not resort to the retaliation you witnessed today. No we didn't." She moistened her already cracking lips. "Those that planned it are gone. They escaped--they left us."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "So you _were_ in league with them, then?"

The woman shook her head, then paused. "We're a small association, Jedi. We have to stay together out of necessity. But we," She motioned to her threadbare compatriots, "We did not agree with their methods. We tried to reason with them, but they were set in their ways. We had no choice but to go along, to silence our objections."

Qui-Gon coughed into his fist, then cleared his throat, the smoke lingering there. "Your silence gives you as much guilt as those that abandoned you." He informed her. "You say you did nothing--

"But your acquiescence did enough. You could have warned planet officials." His countenance was grave. "You could have prevented this."

"Yes." She murmured. "But then, we would have accepted defeat. We would have accepted the tyranny that has engulfed J'Hlen. And the others would have killed us." Passion swelled her voice. "But we _are _sorry, Jedi. You must believe us. You must help us."

__

//We have to turn them in, Master.//

Qui-Gon's reply was hesitant. _//Wait, Padawan.// _"How would you want us to help you?"

There was a small glimmer in her weary eyes. "There are some…who know who we are. They'll undoubtedly suspect we were involved. They'll come after us, as they always have. If we can make it to our secret settlement, we'll be safe from them.

"If you come with us, you could…you could protect us."

Obi-Wan looked at his teacher, and it was plainly evident what he thought of their proposal. 

But instead of sharing his Padawan's opinion, Qui-Gon went very still, staring into the distance.

And Obi-Wan knew that the Master was seeing beyond the frosty background, past the tangles of twisted branches and pale ivy.

The woman was trembling slightly with frightened anticipation. An older male member of the clan moved to soothe her, but she batted him weakly away. 

Midnight blue eyes were studying the loyalists, taking in their hopeful faces, feeling their everlasting battle, forever waging. There was a shift in his eyes, during which a tender compassion glossed over the surface. "We can follow you. Offer some protection from these threats you talk of."

Obi-Wan stared at his Master with unshielded bewilderment. _How can he do this?!_

The woman gave a meek smile. "Thank you, Jedi sir. The gods thank you."

The man whose comforts were recently rejected stepped forward, towering over the elder and at perfect level with Qui-Gon. "We have food. Quite enough food to last us 'til we reach settlement."

Qui-Gon nodded. "That's good. We have nutritional bars that can provide adequate sustenance if the need arises." A woman in the core of the small crowd, with deep mahogany eyes, tried to smile at the Jedi through her tears, but soon could only bury her face in her infant's soft, dimpled shoulder.

"Start ahead." The Master ordered them, glancing at Obi-Wan. "I must speak with my apprentice."

They obeyed, after the old woman sketched a very shallow, painful bow. 

Once they were a short length away, Qui-Gon turned to his Padawan. "I take it you don't approve of my decision." 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "These people are _criminals, _Master." He said curtly.

Qui-Gon leveled his gaze at the youth, observing him with a precision that would regularly cause Obi-Wan to question his stance, to doubt its validity. 

But not today.

"They're _criminals,_ and we're going to derail our mission to help them escape justice?"

Qui-Gon sighed and began to walk, the icy foliage crushing under his boots. "The mission would have been more than derailed in the first place, Obi-Wan. The talks will be postponed until more pressing matters are attended to. Assessing the damage, aiding the victims--"

"And capturing those behind the explosions?" He countered. A great frustration, all too familiar, welled in his chest. "These are not just underdogs that deserve your commiseration, Master. They're radicals that need punishment. You---You could have _died_ in that meeting hall today, and now you're going to risk yourself for these pathetic life forms?"

Qui-Gon stopped, and looked squarely at Obi-Wan. It had always been a joke between them, a tease directed at the Master's soft spot for hard-luck cases. There wasn't any humor in Obi-Wan's eyes now. 

Nor Qui-Gon's. "You have spent a scant ten minutes in their company, and you feel you know these souls well enough to judge them?"

Obi-Wan was coolly silent.

"'They do not understand us, Padawan. Their way of life couldn't be more different from ours. And can you honestly say you understand _them_?" The Jedi asked, disturbed by the absolute conviction he read in the intense features. 

"I understand the difference between right and wrong." Obi-Wan retorted, his words clipped. "And what they did was wrong."

Qui-Gon resumed the trek, careful to keep his tone low. "It's wrong in your perspective. And on initial perception, one would think it a terrible thing to do.

"But these people have lived their entire lives in a constant struggle. They watch the natural customs of their planet sacrificed and when they protest, they are beaten down again and again. How long should they be forced to submit, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan turned from the questioning eyes, looking out into gray-white gloom, the wind rustling his hair. "There are other ways to rebel." He murmured.

"That's true." Qui-Gon agreed. A frigid gust passed, and he spared a moment to pull Obi-Wan's hood up, to cover his head. Then he tucked his hands into his sleeves. "But they told us they didn't participate in the bombing. I believe them, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan exhaled. "So do I. But you said it yourself--They could've alerted someone. This whole situation could have been avoided."

"And the others could have taken their revenge on them. Would anyone in their right mind put their children, " He indicated the two youngest clan members, "In that sort of danger?"

"Does that excuse them of their crimes?" 

"We've all done things we aren't proud of." Qui-Gon said quietly. "Does that damn us?"

Obi-Wan had no response to that, and they quickened their pace to catch up with the group.

() * ()

Night descended and spread a cold darkness upon the thick forest of J'Hlen. 

Their journey, one of a steely silence, had lasted for hours, during which the apprentice could detect a gradual worsening in his Master's condition. The injuries the man rode off as superficial were making themselves better known, and his voice was reduced to a hoarse rasp.

The temperature lowered around them, but Obi-Wan sensed incredible heat emanating from Qui-Gon. He had been sending healing waves toward the ailing figure and was a bit startled when they were accepted without objection.

By the time the group began to lag, the Padawan was nearly drained of his own energies and couldn't gather the strength to send the message mentally. "Master…We should stop. You're ill."

Qui-Gon was quivering hard, his hair strewn across his neck. "Perhaps…Perhaps that would be best." He blinked rapidly, but the spots vibrating in his vision didn't ebb. They came to a partially cleared space, circularly bordered by trees. 

"We'll rest here for the night." Obi-Wan announced, not noticing that his voice was husky. 

The men set to work building a fire while the women settled the children on tattered blankets from their packs, then ripped off pieces of bread from a stale loaf.

Obi-Wan supported Qui-Gon, lowering him to the floor gently and rolling up his own cloak to provide a pillow. He thanked the Force the infamous J'Hlen weather was, for the time being, relatively cooperative.

At least it wasn't snowing.

He pressed his palm to Qui-Gon's forehead and uncomfortable warmth met his touch. "You have a fever." 

Qui-Gon licked his lips, eyes closing. "I'll be alright. I'm just…tired." He coughed.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. You need help, Master. This is serious. I can feel it." As he spoke, he funneled more of his reserved strength to his companion, their argument forgotten in his desperation. 

Qui-Gon attempted to push him back, but couldn't. "I'll be alright, Obi-Wan..I'll.." Abruptly, his head lolled to the side, mouth falling open.

"Master!" Obi-Wan gasped. He pulled the man upright, knowing only that he must be awakened, shaking the unconscious form.

The elderly female scuffled briskly to them. "B'Ahmla, get him under control." She commanded with stiff, urgent inflection.

Obi-Wan fought as arms secured around him, dragging him away from his Master. Through the haze of exhaustion and complete depletion, he couldn't understand why he was being taken from Qui-Gon--who needed help--who needed _him_…

The last thing Obi-Wan saw before oblivion claimed him was the old, shriveled woman, bending over his Master…

() * ()

He was roused by the delighted, squealing laughter of a child, a sound that proved too sweet to be painful, although it did slightly aggravate the throb in his head.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes carefully, half-expecting, in his confused befuddlement, to be in the protective arms of his Master.

Instead, he was embarrassed to find himself cradled by the giant, hulking man that had earlier restrained him. 

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, ignoring the detached buoyancy that seemed to separate his head from the rest of him, a flush coloring otherwise pallid cheeks.

The man calmly stood and reached out to steady the young Jedi. "It's alright, child. You were too weary and unwell to help him. And very cold."

Obi-Wan clenched his eyes shut as an acute ache thrummed in his temples. "Where's my Master?"

His caretaker pointed to the same area Obi-Wan had laid Qui-Gon the night before.

Obi-Wan uttered an embarrassed thank you, then started toward the looming tree.

() * ()

Qui-Gon Jinn was never a man bothered often by illness, his natural defenses as well as Force-enhanced healing skills preventing it. When he fell sick, it was an unwelcome rarity--

And never failed to jar Obi-Wan to his core.

The Padawan stopped a few inches away from the graying woman who hunched over his teacher, spreading a mixture of what he assumed to be herbs on Qui-Gon creased forehead.

In a matter of moments, the tension seemed to flee the feverish man, and he relaxed onto his meager bedding.

Obi-Wan shuddered inwardly at the numerous contusions and deep lacerations marring the powerful body, feeling simultaneously the shame that his own form was only lightly battered in comparison.

He crouched beside the woman, a genuine expression of gratitude and humility etched upon his visage. "Thank you for helping him." Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes lowering. "Thank you for doing what I couldn't."

She rested warm fingers on his shoulder. "I'm not from your generation. And I don't value the advances of it. But I know a thing or two about you Jedi. I know your strength." She patted him. "You helped him as surely as I did, young one."

Obi-Wan's smile was bleak. "But you didn't faint in the process."

She smiled in return. "We have different ways." The woman said slyly. "You couldn't help him in my way and I certainly could never help him in yours. If you doubt it, know this:

"When he woke again, he was asking after you. Not knowing where you were had a harsher pull on him than his malady. I couldn't bring you to him for fear he was contagious, and even my assurances that you were near couldn't satisfy him. His sleep has been very fitful--until just now, when you came."

Obi-Wan glanced at his slumbering Master. "I imagine your medicines are the cause of that."

She shrugged her small shoulders, a knowing glimmer in red-rimmed eyes. "Think what you will. He's better enough that you can stay with him."

"I'm very glad to hear it. But we need to get moving again." Obi-Wan told her with tired reluctance. "Qui-Gon wouldn't want things to be slowed on his account."

Squeezing his hand with all her limited energy, the woman returned to her clan.

() * ()

The second leg of the trip Obi-Wan spent behind them, with an able-bodied, middle aged man heading the group, so that the members were well protected.

While the clan gathered their belongings that morning, the apprentice had worked doggedly to regain the remainder of his strength, and started the walk with a sort of numb rejuvenation.

He had experienced a strange sort of role reversal, with Qui-Gon limp over his shoulder, a heavy burden that no normal human of Obi-Wan's size could have managed. The success of their mission, their very _survival_, rested in his capabilities.

Obi-Wan looked briefly at the J'Hlen healer. _Maybe not solely. _He corrected himself.

During the sultry hour between afternoon and evening, when the scarce light of the sun began its daily retreat, and bleached violets and pinks tinged the scenery, the mother of the infant lessened her stride, to walk at Obi-Wan's side.

Her hair was a dirty, lusterless gold, and tied at the base of her neck, flowing to her waist. Her dark eyes fixed on him. "I hope your friend is improving."

He smiled. "Thank you. The medicines of your people are---astonishing."

A blush lined her cheekbones. "We could help so many, if only they would allow us. Lasers and bacta can't heal everything."

"Yes, well, they all can help." He grinned at the baby fidgeting in her arms. "Is your little friend handling all this alright?"

She quirked her thin lips to the side. "He's very resilient. But he's gone through too much for just a child. As has my other son." 

"They both belong to you?"

She nodded, love swelling in her gaze. "I had another. A daughter. She--She was claimed by this war."

Obi-Wan could sense her overwhelming anguish. "I'm so sorry."

"I would give up. I would have given in, but then…what did she die for?"

He didn't have a ready answer, and he was aware she wouldn't like what he would say anyway. 

They walked for a few minutes in reflective quiet, then she rejoined her companions.

Obi-Wan watched her leave.

() * ()

A sliver of a moon conquered the black J'Hlen sky.

Obi-Wan told the others that he would keep watch, and they all encircled a fire to enjoy a warm, albeit uneasy, sleep.

With his back propped against a tree, Obi-Wan monitored the measured breaths of Qui-Gon, the panic finally trickling away from his heart.

__

He's going to be okay. Thank the Force, he's going to be okay.

He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees.

Words floated through his thoughts, and he winced bitterly at the cruelty of them.

__

"They're criminals_, and we're going to derail our mission to help them escape justice?"_

"… you're going to risk yourself for these pathetic life forms?"

Obi-Wan sealed his eyes tightly, swearing as tears moistened the ginger lashes. "Damn it." He said fiercely against his forearm. "Damn me."

Mouth trembling helplessly, he crawled over to where his Master lay asleep, and curled up beside him, while still sharply conscious of the area around them.

Beads rolled down his face, leaving trails that gleamed in the darkness, in the glare of the fire.

"I was a fool." He spoke with hoarse certainty, half-wishing those vibrant eyes would open, to witness the extent of his lamentation.

"You were right from the first, Master. I-I…" He choked on a rising lump in his throat. "I judged these people to be without merit, without conscience, before I could even begin to comprehend their plight. Now I know how talented they are, how caring and wise.

"I was wrong. So wrong and stupid." Obi-Wan surrendered to the building sobs, weeping silently, his chest hitching with every ragged intake of breath.

After he had been purged, he felt a hand smooth through the riot of damp, ginger spikes. 

"You see what you were blinded to. I'm very happy you appreciate that, my apprentice…" Qui-Gon's eyes were bright, his skin more healthily imbued. "And that you'll never make the mistake again."

Obi-Wan couldn't speak, burying his face against the stalwart chest, writhing in his own personal, shamed agony. 

Qui-Gon rubbed his back. "You are young, Obi-Wan. You haven't the experience to understand all the methods of the Universe's madness. That, I couldn't teach you." He wiped a tear from his cheek. "You had to discover it on your own.

"And you did. You led them and you took care of me."

Obi-Wan clung to the warmth of his Master, but couldn't banish the cold within him. "I know I'll never be as good as you. I know I'll never accept so many into my heart as you can."

Qui-Gon massaged the smooth, chilled skin of Obi-Wan's neck. "I'm not so saintly, Padawan."

Obi-Wan sniffled. "You are willing to see 'pathetic life forms' for what they really are."

"Well, I suppose you're right about that." Qui-Gon forfeited, smirking. "After all, I accepted you, didn't I?"


End file.
